


Hold Tight

by litnerdhood



Series: tumblr prompts [4]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, NO ON SCREEN CHARACTER DEATH JUST HINTING AT IT, there's emotions and crying but no death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2017-04-16
Packaged: 2018-10-19 15:45:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10642980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/litnerdhood/pseuds/litnerdhood
Summary: KOMADORIWONDER'S PROMPT: Alfred is old, there is no denying it; except that everyone does. No one wants to think about losing the person who has held this family together, their foundation. So when Alfred falls ill and the rest of the family holds their collective breath, Jason hides out of fear, refusing to even imagine a life without Alfred... but he is soon left with no choice but to face reality. Jason enters the cold hospital reluctantly, his trembling hands shoved in his pockets, and prepares to say: "goodbye."





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [momoejaku](https://archiveofourown.org/users/momoejaku/gifts).



> it's all @komadoriwonder fault please blame her, i wouldn't have written it without her and yes thank you for fixing all my mistakes LIKE ALL THE TIME!!!! she is the reason this one shot is more than coherent.

Jason gets the message when he’s cooking lunch at home. His phone vibrates and he only hums as he reaches for it before reading the message. He blinks at it, knife slipping from his fingers, a heavy, suffocating fear settling on his chest. He swallows hard as the incoming panic floods him. 

_ ‘Alfred is in hospital. It doesn’t look good.’ _

He reads the message again and again but it stays the same. His mind goes blank within seconds. The only thing he is conscious of is how this can’t happen, of how little time he has spent with Alfred recently, of how unjust the whole thing is. He slumps down on the floor, leaning his back against the cabinets running a hand through his hair. The phone drops out of his limp hand. It can’t happen. That’s all there is to it. Alfred’s going to get better, because he can’t die. He just can’t. Jason has never thought about a life without Alfred. And every part of him rebels against the thought. 

_ He can’t die, he can’t die, he can’t die.  _

Repeating the mantra doesn’t make it true. He tugs at his hair, concentrating on the pain instead of Alfred and the hospital, but the next moment his breath catches, heartbeat pounding in his ears. His whole body shaking, cheeks wet from the tears, Jason falls apart. 

_ If Alfred was here… _

It only makes him cry harder, thinking of Alfred’s grounding presence standing there, giving him the space to face the panic and fight it. Thinking of Alfred’s strong arms around him when it ends, reassuring him that he’s going to be okay. The strength in Alfred’s arms always surprised Jason, always made him think he would always be there for him, his firm foundation through the storms of life. 

But Alfred isn’t here. So he cries.

* * *

 

He wakes up with a piercing headache, his face wet from crying in his sleep, crying from nightmares and dreams of better more comforting times. But Jason fortunately doesn’t remember his dreams. He is living in the nightmares. 

He wipes the tears off his face, gathering the strength to grab his phone and see if he has any more messages. 

His body moves sluggishly, his back stiff from sleeping against the hard wooden cabinets. The breakdown yesterday doesn't help and he's exhausted, but he swallows down his fears and looks at his phone once again. 

There is another message from Dick asking when is he going to visit, but Jason doesn't answer. Thinking of Alfred dying would only end in more tears and Jason is tired to his bones. He should visit Alfred. He should visit him and talk with him and try to make the white washed walls and sterilised atmosphere and drawn-out, dull hours of the hospital more tolerable for him. But even thinking about it, thinking about the chance that Alfred won't come back from this illness, fills him with a nauseating sickness, makes his stomach turn with it. 

He isn't going to say goodbye, because Alfred is going to come through this. The doctors are wrong. Just last week, Alfred was strong and healthy, he didn't see any sign of sickness when he had shared a cup of tea with him and watched the amused smile and raised eyebrows spread across his weathered face…  so why was it happening now? 

He finally feels like he is part of the family again. Bruce and he are talking, listening to each other, and it doesn’t grate on his nerves like it did for months after his resurrection. 

So why does it seem like everything he worked so hard to build up, to repair, is crumbling down again? 

Jason doesn’t give himself time to mull over these thoughts. He has already wasted too much time dwelling in this pain. He packs a duffel bag quickly so he can leave this apartment for a safe house the family doesn't know about. He won't have any of them breathing down his neck when he can barely think straight. 

Jason hides.

The following days are filled with the constant vibrating of his phone against the kitchen table, the terror rising as it starts and falling when it stops. It could only be bad news, and he doesn’t have the strength to face it. He doesn't have the strength to face the verbal beat down he would surely get from the others and Bruce too. But, God, Bruce has every reason to be more disappointed in him than usual. 

But still, Jason swallows his guilt like he always done, and hides. It's a grey, rainy Monday when he gets another message from Dick. He reads the message in numb silence as rain patters in a melancholy rhythm against the window panes.  

_ ‘he's not getting better, jason please’  _

It's crystal clear what Dick is asking of him. 

He showers quickly and out of the door before he can convince himself to turn around and hide in his room, wallowing in his miserable ideas of what his life be without Alfred. 

Arriving at the hospital, he exhales shakily and with trembling hands shoved in the pocket of his hoodie, he finds himself standing in front of the hospital room. He opens the door as quietly as he can and steps in. 

Closing the door, he stops and looks over Alfred. He lies there with closed eyes, skin pale, but if he is in pain, it does not show on his face. The IV line beside him seems to be the more likely explanation, and quickly dashes any hope in a miraculous recovery that Jason had been hoping for. 

Jason sits down on the chair closer to the bed. He swallows hard, his throat dry, heart clenching at the sight of Alfred. Biting his lips, he fidgets, pleading with his muscles to relax as he keeps his distance, shoulders hunched forward, hands balled up in fists to reduce the trembling. It doesn’t help. 

His eyes stay on the window, away from Alfred. A hand placed gently on his knee jerks him out of his own thoughts. 

“Hey, Alfie,” he manages, smiling weakly as his eyes meet Alfred's.

“Master Jason, I'm happy to see you here.”

And Alfred is the best, isn't he? Jason easily hears the warmth in Alfred's voice instead of the disappointment and disapproval he deserves for avoiding him. He should have learned for now that Alfred's patience for him will never run out.

“Sorry for avoiding visiting you,” he says, his voice barely more than a whisper, the guilt overpowering him. “I know I should've come sooner I'm just…”  

_ Not strong enough to see you on your last days.  _

It's not fair how easily Alfred makes all his walls crumble, but the warm hand on his knee helps him to stay in control of his emotions. He's so tired of crying, Jason doesn't want Alfred to see him like that. Alfred has had to deal with his tears for so long, when he was young, when he was readjusting to a life he wasn’t meant to have… when Jason was in Gotham, there were weeks when Alfred wouldn’t let him go without any contact for even one day. 

“Stop,” Alfred says gently. “You're overthinking it.”

“Story of my life.” Jason closes his eyes at his own bitter words before he shakes his head. “Sorry, I'm behaving like a child.”

“Don't apologise, I'm pleased to talk to you face to face. I wasn't present at our last meeting.” 

“Can't really blame you for that, can I?” Jason's eyes glisten with tears but he takes a deep breath, holds back his tears. “Your life is much more important than our meeting. I could have come here before but I didn't.”

“Hush, you're here now.”

Alfred doesn't detest him for avoiding it and while he'd known Alfred is much better person than most of them, he feels as if this makes it harder. As if it would be easier for Alfred to just hate him.

The worst part of it is knowing that Alfred could never hate him. 

“Geez, Alfred, are you – ,” Jason starts but he cuts himself off. “Dick says, you aren't gonna  get better.”

“Yes,” Alfred's answer comes. Short and calm, as if his dying doesn't upset him, like he has already accepted that he doesn’t have much time. 

“You've only got a few days.”

“Yes.”

Jason looks at Alfred, and all of his fears escape his mouth without permission. 

“I don't wanna lose you,” Jason's voice breaks as he reaches for Alfred's hand. He squeezes it gently, instead of grabbing a hold of it and clinging to him like his brain tells him. “How can we even function without you?”

“You are going to survive this Master Jason, like I survived losing you.”

Jason's breath hitches, his expression shattering and bowing his head forward so Alfred can’t see the self hate on his face. 

“I’m old, Master Jason.”

“Not old enough to die.”

“Jason, son. You’re going to be alright.” 

Alfred's hand rests on his head, comforting, only making it that bit harder to hold back his sobs and tears. The lump in his throat thickens, he shivers as he tries to stop the  tears from streaming down his cheeks but he ignores it and hopes Alfred won't notice. 

“You're going to be alright,” Alfred repeats, his voice firm. And he sounds so  _ sure. _

_ How can I be fine without you?  _ Jason thinks, anger swelling up in his chest.

It's not fair because Alfred has given him a place to go when he can't deal with his thoughts anymore. 

He needs more time.

Jason ducks his head lower and lower. The comforting pressure of Alfred’s hand disappears. Fuck, he's become a master at disappointing his family, hasn’t he? 

Alfred moves, sitting up in his bed he puts his arms around his shoulders, pulling Jason closer. 

It takes no time for Jason to lose his cool demeanor. Eyes burning, throat tight, Alfred's hospital gown slowly gains a small wet patch on his chest 

Jason’s stomach churns with hate as he starts crying again. He's getting tired of his out of control emotions, crying all the time without stopping. He almost wishes for the years as Robin to come back, the years when he'd known how to repress crying in front of others. 

Alfred's warm hand on his back anchors him to the present. Applying one of the meditating techniques he knows, Jason’s breathing begins to slow down. But it doesn't help with the hurt he feels in his chest. 

Alfred is raking his fingers through Jason's hair gently. Jason wipes his eyes with the sleeve of the hoodie, his head staying in Alfred's lap. 

The apology lies on the tip of his tongue but Jason is smart enough to know, Alfred would only dismiss it so he swallows it down. 

“I'm so proud of you, Jason,” Alfred says, his voice warm like Jason did well on his school work back when he was fourteen.

“I imagined you'd say those words when I graduated from the uni. And you'd smile and your eyes would just say: ‘I told you so’. I wanted to come home after a hard week so I could complain about all the boring classes and talk with you about the assignments… ” Jason's voice breaks but he doesn't let the tears win this time. “Alfie… I – I got my letter from the uni, I'm in. I wanted you to see me graduate and be proud.”

Alfred's hand disappears from his hair, his body shaking with restrained sobs, Jason sits up abruptly, cursing himself for bringing up his imagined dreams, only causing pain. 

“I'm sorry, Alfie, I'm sorry,” Jason pleads as he stands up to hug Alfred, to give the comfort Alfred has freely given so many times before. “You've been here for me for my whole life and I'm being a bitter fricking idiot when it's the last thing you need.”

“Your company has never been a burden to me, Master Jason.”

“Yeah, I'm sure my constant whining has significantly raised your mood in the past few months.”

Jason deserves the blank stare he gets from Alfred as he sits back on the chair again. 

“Jason,” Alfred says simply. And something in his tone forces Jason to listen, to really listen to him. “I'm grateful for every single minute I’ve spent with you.”

“You'd be the only one,” Jason mutters, shoulders hunched forward. Even if it wasn't true, Jason’s heart beats too fast to calm down, his grief earlier embracing him with a new vigor. 

“Your misconception of the family’s feelings about you should not astonish me.”

Jason leans back on his chair, a small laugh falling from his mouth at the dry voice. Alfred is, of course, right. The animosity with the family has died down with the years but the bitterness has gripped him tightly, latched onto him like a parasite.

Alfred moves back under the blanket, lying down with a small sigh, and Jason watches him, worry etched across his face. He would give anything for Alfred to get better. He would die again, relive all the pain and horror of his untimely youthful death in a heartbeat if he knew it would give Alfred even one more day on this world.

His eyes wander around the room, stopping at the book on the small table next to him. His eyes burn seeing Alfred's favourite book, but he takes it in his hands, opening it at the bookmark. 

He looks at Alfred, asking for permission silently. Alfred’s old, sad eyes smile back at him. He begins reading the familiar lines like he did so many times before in the manor’s library, surrounded by the old books, sitting close to the fireplace, buried in his a blanket. The room with the white dull walls and stifling antiseptics doesn’t compare to the warmth of the library. 

Jason takes a short break, easing his dry throat with a glass of water. He lies his head next to Alfred’s, closing his eyes, he relishes in the moment of peacefulness, escaping from his overwhelming feelings. 

Alfred squeezes the back of his neck faintly, his forehead touching Jason's. 

“You know, I love you Alfie, right? You believed in me even after I came back. You're always there for me, supporting even when I didn't deserve this. You're the reason I'm still alive, you're my everything Alfie. I'll take care of myself and the others, for your sake, okay?” Jason gives shaky breath, throat tight with his repressed emotion. 

Alfred doesn't say anything, only embracing Jason in his arms, body trembling slightly. 

For the first time in the week, breathing comes easier and the suffocating feeling in his chest slowly lifts off.

**Author's Note:**

> yell at me your feelings because i kind of died writing it


End file.
